


The Light of Day Will Find Us

by nothingelsematters



Series: Long Away [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Deamaylor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Ronnie is a hardcore poly!Queen shipper, Self-Doubt, Threesome, cute old men, oh look i wrote a smutty sequel, poly!Queen, re-establishing relationship, the morning after the Oscars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 18:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18299726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingelsematters/pseuds/nothingelsematters
Summary: The morning after the Oscars, John finds out that his lovely dream was, in fact, real...





	The Light of Day Will Find Us

**Author's Note:**

> Awwww, you know I can't have too much angst without some fluff to counter it! So here's the sequel to For Every Star In Heaven (There's A Sad Soul Here Today). This takes place the morning after!
> 
> (I fully intended this to be fluff only...but the boys were randy, what can I say?)
> 
> Fair warning, if you don't wanna read about three old men having sex, you are really in the wrong fic.
> 
> Title is of course from Brian's Long Away.
> 
> Additional: Fun It can be considered in the same universe, though I haven't added it to the series. Hence the nicknames make a return.

John felt his dream fading away like wisps of smoke, and fought to hold into it as he rose out of sleep. He was so warm, and snug, and it had been _such_ a nice dream…

He smiled as he felt fingers combing through what was left of his hair. _Ronnie_. He’d have to tell her about the nice dream he’d had, that lovely dream where he’d gone to Brian and Roger and they’d taken him back and held him like the old days. She’d probably smile and then slide his phone across to him with Brian’s number pulled up and tell him to call Bri.

John felt the brushing of hair against his cheek and reached out to tangle Ronnie’s hair in his fingers –

\- but the hair beneath his fingertips wasn’t smooth and straight silk. It was soft, bouncing curls. John jolted immediately to wakefulness and opened his eyes to see a floating grey cloud framing a familiar face, peaceful in repose.

 _Brian_?

Just as suddenly, he became aware that he was warm and snug because he was wedged between two bodies, not one. The fingers were still combing through his hair, and John carefully rolled over, for his eyes to meet big blue pools of warmth –

_Roger?_

_It wasn’t a dream!_

“Good morning, little spark,” Roger whispered, his eyes shining as he leaned in to kiss John gently; John felt the warmth of the long-disused pet name wrap around him like a blanket.

“Good morning, Rog,” he whispered back; his throat was hot and tight. Roger’s fingertips gently brushed the tears from his eyelashes.

“What’s wrong, little spark?”

“I thought – I thought you were a dream…”

“I’m everybody’s dream,” Roger grinned, winking, and John had to bury his face in Roger’s shoulder to stop himself laughing aloud and waking Brian. “Come on, let’s leave Bri to sleep in, and order breakfast.”

Roger rolled off the bed, and after gently removing Brian’s arm from his waist, John followed; they wrapped themselves in dressing gowns and silently moved out into the main room, closing the bedroom door behind them.

John remained silent as Roger picked up the phone and began ordering their breakfast, making sure to order vegetarian items for Brian, and then, with a dashing smile at John, he added cheese on toast to the order, and requested a very large pot of tea.

John wandered to the window; looking out between the gauze, he could see Los Angeles slowly beginning to wake, cars rushing by outside. It felt oddly serene.

He felt Roger’s arms slip around his waist, and hesitantly, still hardly daring to believe it was real, leaned back slightly. Roger’s lips pressed to John’s bare shoulder, and John felt suddenly, horribly self-conscious of his aging body. He was no longer the lithe nymph that the band had fallen in love with.

“John?” Roger’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Can I kiss you?”

Warmth spread through John’s chest and he turned in the circle of Roger’s arms.

“Only if I can kiss you.”

Their lips met again, at first soft, then more fervently. John felt his arms sliding naturally around Roger’s waist; Roger’s hands were on his face, pulling him down. He felt the tentative flicker of Roger’s tongue against his lips, and opened his mouth greedily; Roger had always been one to go straight to tongue.

For a brief moment, John felt shifted out of time; back to a lazy Sunday morning in their tiny shared apartment, no money, no fame, just four lovers who had a knack for making music.

A soft tapping on the door of their suite jolted him back to reality. Roger pulled away with a grumbling sigh, going across to let the room service in; John quickly stepped back into the bedroom to make sure he wasn’t seen. Brian was still fast asleep, his countenance serene and beautiful, and John couldn’t help but feel jealous for a moment of how well the guitarist had aged.

Then he felt Roger’s fingers slip into his own, and let himself be drawn back into the main room.

“He’ll sleep for a little while yet,” Roger smiled. “Never been a morning person, our Bri.”

“No,” John agreed, making his way over to the sofa; the breakfast had been spread out on the coffee table. He reached instantly for the plate of cheese on toast, only to be surprised when Roger took it out of his hand.

Then Roger slipped into his lap, straddling him, and John felt something more than the warmth of love flush through his body.

“I’m gonna take care of you today, little spark,” Roger murmured, pressing another kiss to his lips before offering John the toast. John took a bite, unable to look away from the soft fondness in Roger’s eyes, and had to swallow hard before he choked; he’d almost forgotten to breathe.

“Is that so?” he asked breathlessly, and Roger’s devilish grin made something hot swoop through John’s stomach.

“That’s very much so.”

Roger offered him the toast again, and John, feeling a little boldness creeping in at the way Roger was looking at him, made sure to take it delicately in his teeth, tugging at it, emphasising the movement of his tongue as he took it into his mouth, even letting himself hum in pleasure as he chewed.

He almost giggled to see Roger’s pupils dilate.

“I see one thing hasn’t changed,” the drummer growled. “You teasing little minx.”

John batted his eyelashes innocently at Roger, something he was sure had been easier to pull off when he’d been nineteen and beautiful, but it clearly had the same effect.

“I’m not doing anything,” he pouted. “I’m just hungry.”

Roger’s eyes darkened still further.

“So am I,” he answered, his voice dropping into the raspy part of his register, and John was sure all of his blood rushed straight to his cock.

“Perhaps I should be feeding you, then,” John tried to keep his tone light and innocent, but his voice betrayed him by dipping lower. Roger bared his teeth in response.

“I can certainly think of something I’d like to eat,” he _growled_ , and John immediately put his hands to Roger’s hips, pulling him down.

“So can I,” John grinned, “and it’s not cheese on toast.”

Roger ground his hips down, making John’s breath catch in his throat and his cock suddenly _very_ interested, and then, pressing against his stomach, he could feel Roger’s hardness too. Somehow, some way, Roger was still attracted to him.

They had touched last night, of course, but little more than petting each other, skin contact, stroking one another’s hair. Everything had felt too fragile to do more. But now – now John was acutely aware of nearly three-decades of pent-up desire, and the feeling of Roger’s fingers on his skin was liable to send him mad if they didn’t _do something about it_.

Oh, and there was the small matter of his lovers having won an Oscar last night, too.

Their lips met again, hungry and messy and desperate, teeth and tongues clashing. John’s fingers curled, his short fingernails scrunching up the dressing-gown and pulling it slightly apart; Roger’s hands slid inside John’s, fingers tweaking at a nipple and making John hiss in pleasure.

Roger’s mouth left John’s and made its way down his neck, kissing at biting and stopping to work a mark into the skin of his shoulder, pushing off the gown as he went, and John threw his head back and let himself moan properly, already fuzzy with want and need and –

Brian was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his sleepy expression rapidly disappearing, red flooding his cheeks and flushing down his chest as he stood there only in his boxers.

A succession of emotions flickered over his face, before he settled into an exasperated grin.

“Rog, you greedy bastard, you had to start without me, didn’t you?”

“You were asleep, bright star,” Rog grinned blithely.

“Well, perhaps we should take this back to the bedroom, then,” Brian suggested smoothly, and the look on his face was such that Roger scrambled quickly to his feet, holding out a hand to help John up.

Breakfast was forgotten as they made their way back into the bedroom, John trailing a little behind, nerves starting to creep in. He watched Brian kiss Roger, the easy, natural way the two fitted together, and began to doubt. They’d had nearly thirty years to form their own relationship; perhaps he would have been better not to intervene…

“You’re in your head, clever spark,” Brian broke through his thoughts; Roger had disappeared into the bathroom. “Can I take this off you?”

John nodded wordlessly as Brian slid the dressing gown off him, leaning in to kiss him. Brian’s kisses were more of a slow burn, clever movements with his tongue that made fire build in John’s gut. John slid his arms around Brian’s neck to pull them closer, and Brian’s hands stroked down over his back. His fingers teased along John’s backside, creeping closer to the crease, and John couldn’t help a shiver of nerves.

“John?”

John hastily tried to reassure Brian. “It’s – I’m okay – it’s just – it’s been a long time…”

Brian’s face softened with an understanding smile. “It’s all right, John. We’ll take it slow. We’re not in a rush. We have the rest of our lives to spend doing other things.”

John felt such a rush of love that it made his head feel faint; he couldn’t help but pull Brian down to kiss him again, trying to inject his feelings into the kiss. He must have been successful, because he felt Brian’s lips curve into a smile against his.

“I have another suggestion,” Brian murmured against his skin as they broke the kiss. “Something I used to enjoy doing to you very much…if you’d still like it. We could try me using my tongue on you, perhaps?”

John felt his cock twitch in anticipation, and Brian must have felt it too, because he chuckled softly. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” John breathed.

“Get up on the bed, then,” Brian grinned, patting his backside as he turned to Roger, who was carrying towels and a bottle of lube out of the bathroom. “Angel, you can get yourself ready while you watch.”

John pulled off his boxers, watching as Roger did the same; he clambered forward on the bed to kiss him, their tongues dancing lazily, and John felt familiarity settling over him like a blanket. How many times had they done this? Yes, even after Freddie had left for Munich, still John had lain at night snuggled between Roger and Brian…

“Lie down,” Brian suggested, his hand stroking down John’s back. “It will be easier.” John followed his instructions, resolutely refusing to think of the past; the present, the here and now, was all that mattered. He folded his arms to prop himself on his elbows, and Brian had pushed a pillow under his stomach to raise his hips off the bed. John squirmed for a moment, trying to get the pillow in a comfortable spot; eventually he managed it, and, feeling daring, spread his thighs.

Brian was dropping feather-light kisses down his back.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, and John blushed, knowing he was now anything but. Brian’s hands smoothed their way over his backside and his thighs, gentle, reverent caresses. “You look delicious…why don’t you watch Rog, while I have a taste?”

John turned his head to look across at Roger, who was lying lazily on his back, one finger teasing around his hole, his tongue running unconsciously over his lips as he watched Brian; when he became aware of John watching him, he leaned over and kissed him again.

John was so wrapped up in Roger that the sensation of Brian’s breath against his hole was enough to make a powerful shock race through him; Brian followed it up by teasing the muscle with his tongue, and John couldn’t stop himself from moaning aloud.

Brian had certainly lost none of the skill of his tongue with age; he darted it in and out with short stabs and then longer strokes, his long fingers spread delicately over John’s thighs; sometimes he would pull away entirely to scrape his teeth over sensitive skin before plunging back in again, and John felt his grasp on reality slip; the sensation was almost overwhelming. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Roger writhing on his own fingers, and it did nothing to stop the lava pooling in his gut; John could feel his orgasm approaching and suddenly realised that he should probably stop them.

“Bri – Bri, stop.”

Brian lifted his head and licked his lips; he pressed a tender kiss to John’s hip. “What’s wrong, love?”

John managed an awkward laugh. “Nothing wrong, except if you kept going this was going to be over very quickly, and, uh, I can’t…”

“Of course,” Brian grinned, and John realised that of course, Brian and Roger were both older than him; how could he possibly think they would find it deficient that he could only go one round these days? It was unlikely that they could go more than one, either. He scolded his self-doubt.

“How would you like to do this?” Roger grinned, crawling across to them; John sat up and kissed him leisurely.

“What if…” he bit his lip hesitantly, glanced at Brian and Roger for encouragement; they both smiled. “What if you were on all fours, Rog, and…and you blew me while Bri fucks you?”

For a moment, John worried he’d overstepped his bounds; then he saw the way Brian was pinching the base of his cock and realised it was quite the opposite. Roger scrambled to get into position; John turned around and sat with his back to the headboard, so that Roger’s hands could bracket his hips.

“Sounds divine,” Roger grinned, pressing kisses down John’s chest and over his stomach; John blushed again and covered his face with his hands, acutely aware of the paunch of his stomach and remembering again that he was no longer slim. “Ah, ah, none of this,” Roger pulled his hands away. “No, don’t hide, love; there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it happened to all of us as we aged…and Bri and I aren’t exactly skinny little things anymore either.”

John managed a smile at Roger, who smiled back earnestly, adding, “You’re still a lovely thing, John, never doubt it.”

Before John could reply, however, Roger’s eyes went suddenly wide and a gasp was punched out of him; looking up further, John felt his cock twitch again at the sight of Brian’s concentrated face as his hips pushed forward.

“Jesus, Bri, warn a guy,” Roger hissed, but John knew him well enough to know his annoyance was faked – and then felt a surge of happiness when he realised that he _still_ knew Roger well enough to pick it up. Time did not change all things.

Brian looked up and winked at John, a devilish, naughty wink, before he began thrusting gently, working the pace up slowly, one hand reaching around to counter his rhythm on Roger’s cock.

John had almost forgotten their plan, too wrapped up in watching his lovers together, that it came as a surprise when he felt Roger’s mouth close over the head of his own cock; he gasped and pushed his hips upwards without thought, but Roger took it easily, looking up at John through his eyelashes as he began to suck; John let his head fall back with a cry, his fingers clenching in Roger’s hair.

For a while, there was no sound in the room save their gasps, whimpers and cries, and the sound of skin on skin and the slurping of Roger’s tongue; dimly, John was aware of the way Roger’s beard scraped over his thighs, and knew he’d have beard burn later, but for now the slight edge of ticklish pain was enough to stoke the fire higher.

Then Roger sank all the way down on him, and John almost choked around the warning in his throat –

“Rog – gonna…”

But Roger merely braced himself, and John heard his voice rise to a wail as he came, hard, Roger swallowing everything he had to give and coaxing aftershocks out of him. The vibration of Roger’s moan around him was almost too much to handle; and then Roger went very still, and John felt some of his come splatter on his legs. Brian joined them after a few more thrusts with a low growling sound; then Roger’s arms shook, and he and Brian collapsed sideways, panting.

The room was still and quiet, and John focused, for a moment, on bringing his ragged breathing under control. Then he bent down, and kissed Roger’s temple. “Are you all right?”

A smile crossed Roger’s face and he smiled up at John. “I am now,” he murmured. “I’ve missed that.”

It was Brian who managed to get up first, grabbing the towel and wiping Roger down, before leaning over the drummer to wipe John down too, exchanging a soft kiss with him.

“I think,” Brian said with a content smile, “that a bath would be very nice, right about now. And our tub is definitely big enough for three.”

John smiled back.

“That would be nice.”

Roger rolled himself off the bed. “Well come on then, you two. Let’s get it sorted.”

John fleetingly thought of their breakfast – now surely cold sitting on the table in the living room – but the temptation of curling up with his lovers in the bath was far too much to resist. He meandered into the bathroom after them, watching in amusement as Roger and Brian bickered playfully over which salts to put in the bath, and regret washed over him as he realised how much he had missed them – how much he had loved them.

_No. No more regrets. Live in the present._

“I love you.”

That brought an abrupt halt to the argument, both Roger and Brian staring at him, eyes wide, only the sound of the water filling the bath echoing in the tiled room.

“Say – say that again…?” Brian’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“I love you. I love both of you. I love you so much. I’ll never leave you again, I promise, my angel, my bright star.” The pet names were usually their thing, but he had to make them see what he felt. “I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”

There was another brief moment of silence, and then John found himself swept into two pairs of arms, two pairs of lips showering his face and neck with kisses.

“We love you too, little spark,” Brian said fondly, stroking his cheek. “We never stopped loving you.”

“It was always our dearest wish that you’d come back to us, one day,” Roger murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “We love you so.”

They stood together for a moment, and John felt suddenly peaceful, the first true peace he’d felt since Freddie had died.

Of course, their moment was broken by Roger suddenly exclaiming, “The bath will overflow!”

Giggling, they shut the tap off, and slid in, one by one. John snuggled up to Brian in the hot water; Roger snuggled up to him, and John felt quite content to stay like that forever.

Out in the living room, next to their cold breakfast, John’s phone whistled and a message notification appeared on the screen.

**Ronnie <3: ** _Did you have a good evening, dear? ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo! More writing done!
> 
> Hopefully more Headcanon Save Project to come tomorrow night. In the meantime, you can natter at me on my tumblr, nothingelsematterswrites!


End file.
